you alone can make my song take flight
by Ignatius J. Reilly
Summary: Christine saves Erik from a horrible fate. But after everything he's been through, can he learn to care for another? Is there a bond strong enough to change the course of events? Or is he lost, past the point of no return? 1st phantom fic. R&R & enjoy! EC
1. Flight

**quite a few details have been changed. based predominantly on the 2004 movie.**

** i am in love with POTO and erik. nuff said.**

**please review and ENJOY!!!!**

YOU ALONE CAN MAKE MY SONG TAKE FLIGHT

At seven years of age, only one aspect of my life mattered: the music. I aspired to become the most sensational opera singer to ever cross the great and prestigious stages of Paris. So my father, after weeks of my persistant begging, sent me off to school at the opera. I was beyond thrilled at the wonders that I was certain would find me there.

Once I had arrived, along with eight other girls like myself, at the opera house, I couldn't speak. Such majesty, such beauty! I was ready for my chance to become whom i was sure I would be. Everyone would know me as Christine Daae, the best opera singer in France! Maybe even the world!

I quickly become close friends with a girl named Meg, who was only a few months older than I.

"I want to become a ballet dancer," she informed me immediately. "My mother is in charge of ballet here at the opera house."

"Really? My father is involved in music like me. He plays the violin extradonarily well." I boasted, my head held high.

And then it was time for our first lesson.

Days passed quickly at the opera house. Soon they turned into weeks, and weeks to months.

In December, I learned that my sickly father had passed away. I mourned him profusely. I was devestated, for only two weeks before, when I had traveled to see him, he had told me that the angel of music would watch over me. No such angel had ever appeared to me.

Years passed, and all too soon I was fifteen.

A little less than a month after my birthday, a sideshow fair came to Paris, near to the opera house. We students entreated our teachers to allow us to journey there for an evening, a request which was quickly agreed to. Grinning at our success, we grabbed our coin-purses and headed out into the streets of Paris with Madame Giry, Meg's mother and our ballet instructor. Meg, unfortunately, was sick in bed and could not attend the fair.

We roamed in a group, gawking at each attraction with appropriate "ooo's" and "ah's". Then we approached a large, black banner with "The Devil's Child" written upon it in dripping crimson letters. We hustled into the small tent, anticipating what was to come.

A small cage, covered with a gray shroud, sat in the middle of the area. The owner of the fair, an enormous, red-faced man who scared most of the littler ones, followed us in, booming, "Step right up! Come this way, ladies and gentlemen, to see the one and only Devil's Child!!!" He pushed past the crowd to stand beside the cage, and then slowly, with a dramatic flourish, swept off the cloth covering it.

There, behind the cold metal bars, lay a thin boy who appeared a bit older than I. He wore only torn breeches, his head covered with a woven sack. Growling with frustration, the owner forced open the cage door and sent a flying kick towards the boy, who crawled to the corner of the cage. He held his arms up to shield his face from the owner's vivious blows. Furious, his face beet-red, the owner overpowered the weak, bruised boy and pulled the sack off his head. An audible gasp rose from the crowd as the "Devil's child"'s face was revealed.

It was ghastly, without a doubt hideous. The skin on the left side of his face was an angry, twisted red; hopelessly deformed. Yet I felt nothing but compassion for him as he attempted to shield himself from the world.The owner gripped the boy's dark brown hair and yanked his head back. The ladies present shrieked and the men winced. Coins were thrown into the cage, and the crowd dispersed.

My group was leaving, but I lingered, staying at the edge of the curtained entrance. Yes, I felt moving pity deep in my stomach, but also something else that I could not identify.

The owner continuied beating the boy, calling him the most malignant and awful names I had ever heard. Before I could stop to think, I quickly moved to the cage, banging on the bars, screaming, "Stop it! Please stop it!" I ran into the cage and hit his back with my insistant fists. The gigantic man whirled to slap me across the face, and I landed against the bars and sagged, stunned. Eventually, he grew bored from hurting his main attraction and greedily crouched on his hands and knees to collect the money strewn about.

Suddenly the boy was on top of him, a stray piece of rope wrapped around the heavy man's neck. i could only watch, amazed, as the owner wheezed and gasped for breath, and collasped to the ground, unmoving.

For a moments there was shocked silence. Then the boy looked up into my brown eyes with his wide amber ones, and before either of us could move, Madame Giry was there. "Dear God," she inhaled sharply.

"Madame!" I cried, coming to my senses. "You have to help us! We can't let him be taken! Please, Madame!"

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded. "Take the boy to the opera catacombs, through the grated entrance on the street. Hurry!"

I heard voices outside, and I nodded fervently. "Yes, Madame, thank you!" I grabbed his hand, hissing "Follow me!" in his ear. Together we fled into the darkness.

Hand in hand, we raced down the dreary nighttime streets of Paris, leaving the outraged crys of the fairfolk far behind. As we turned the corner, the opera house stood right in front of me. The boy silently and quickly followed me to the wide, barred grate on the side of the opera building. I opened it and beckoned for him to follow me inside, and once we were both in I shut the gate behind us.

I led the boy through the damp tunnel, feeling my way through. "Just a bit farther," I panted as a faint yellow glow greeted us from the opening.

And we emerged, grimy and blinking, into the area by the undergrond lake he would later call home.

**Alright, first chappie, not by far my best. **

**oh and I don't own phantom of the opera. at all.**


	2. The Music Begins

**March 1867**

"My name is Erik," he informed me after we had had a chance to sit down amid the various props that had been carelessly left and forgotten here in this dark, lonely grotto. He bent to pick up a white leather mask, flipping it over in his hands for a moment. Then he turned, casting his sack to the floor, putting on the disguise. He proceeded to pick up scattered bits of male costumes and then was gone behind a thick velvet curtain

I smiled warmly and called out, "My name is Christine Daae." Erik stuck his head out from behind the curtain for an instant, one half of his face shielded; the other normal, even handsome, side revealed.

"Oh, I know," he said impulsively, a faint blush creeping up on his cheek. He met my gaze with his clever, emerald eyes, then disappeared once more. "They talked about you- the people who came to see...me, they called you the 'potential prima donna... the talented chorus girl, who would surely be the leading soprano, certain to grace the stage of the opera populaire as the leading soprano'..." He trailed off.

As for me, I was a bit shocked. I had no idea that i was thought of in this way by anyone... and Erik, he seemed to think the same. Even though he had never heard me sing. Flattered, I replied, "Well, I thank you, monsieur, for your kind words. Now, we will have to set up a way for you to live here, undiscovered, at least until the fair leaves and the search for you dies down. I'll talk to Madame giry, and see what can be done. I can bring food and supplies everyday for the present while we figure a better method, and you can take as many props and costumes and things as you wish from above- you can probably live up there if you want-"

Erik appeared once more, dressed in a white linen shirt, black breeches and boots, as well as a black overcoat ang gloves. He replied quietly. "I actually rather like it here. It's away from people, it has the potential to fit what I enjoy to do and- oh, Handel!" He cried suddenly, picking up a piece of discarded music. He faced me, eyes burning with excitement and pleasure. "I particularly enjoy music."

I was a bit surprised, and walked to his side. "You can play?"

He nodded. "I learned at a very early age how to play piano. And my singing is satisfactory."

I smiled encouragingly. "Well, perform for me then, Eric," I said, gesturing to an old organ that sat, unused and dusty, on a rocky ledge.

Erik hesitated, but I firmly grasped his long fingers and led him to the seat. I snatched the music from his hand and propped it open. 'Play!" I instructed, pointing at the popular aria. He heaved a sigh, but then surveyed the music. After a few moments he began to play.

A sound impossibly resounding and luxurious filled the thick atmosphere immediately. It was as if the whole orchestra was in the room with us as he gracefully glided over the familar music that I realized that I had never truly listened to before . Each note was so perfect, so truly astounding, that I was open-mouthed with sheer wonder and incredulity.

And then he began to sing. A cherub in heaven could not have matched his unforgettable voice. Oh, the feeling and passion Eric put into every chord, every word! His voice made my heart swell and my mind forget, my body weaken and my soul belong to him. He was an angel, the Angel of Music, and I was his for forever.

As the piece drew to a close and the last note hung poignantly in the air, I collasped. Erik whirled and caught me right before I hit the ground. "Christine?" He said my name worriedly, cradling my limp body to his chest. My heade spun as I tried to sit up.

Finally I was able to open my eyes and look into his relieved, green ones. "Erik..." I murmured softly.

"Shhh," he crooned, carefully standing and walking to a large couch about ten feet away. Suddenly I could think clearly, and it came to my attention that we were moving away from the organ. "No, go back, I'm fine."

Erik shook his masked head. "Christine, you're so pale, you should lie down-"

'No- NO!" I insisted, fighting against him. "Go back! Go back to the organ! Play more of that song- you are incredible- your voice! It's like nothing I've heard before! Play more!" I commanded.

He stopped and sighed. "As you wish, ma petite moineau."

And with that, I was carried back into heaven.


	3. No Compassion Anywhere

**In case anyone was wondering, "ma petite moineau" means "my little nightingale" in French. I think. ( I honestly am not sure- my translator is not so reliable) so correct me if i'm wrong. Thanks!**

**Enjoy- reviews are much appreciated!**

**Oh and I don't own Phantom of the Opera. At all.**

As the night progressed, and time became increasingly more inconsquential, his songs grew more and more endearing and soft. And although his eyelids were drooping, he continued on for me, making the most enchanting music I had ever heard. I was intoxicated by the sheer emotion it contained. I was able to sing along with him- our voices, soprano and tenor, blended remarkably well- for many pieces.

"Oh!" I gasped, as yet another song was completed. "Oh, Erik, I am so sorry, you've been playing all night, you must be so tired, after everything you''ve been through..." I was appalled at my selfishness.

"It's alright, I require little sleep, and-"

"Erik, you must think I'm a terrible person, I am so sorry." I hung my head, ashamed.

Carefully, he lifted my chin with a nimble finger to look him in the eye. "Dear Christine, for you I would play for eternity," he said solemnly.

I was taken aback by his sincerity. Boys had said such things to myself and my friends, flirting with us. But it was different with Erik. I never doubted his seriousness, not for a second.

I smiled shyly. "Thank you, Erik. You're sweet."

The visible part of his face was expressionless. We stared into each other's eyes for a long amount of time. Erik was so intelligent, so gifted, so _interesting_. He was mesmerising, even with his deformity, which held no horror for me at all.

He cleared his throat. "Aren't you tired, mademoiselle?"

"No, not very much. And you are not to call me mademoiselle- it's Christine from now on."

"Alright- Christine," He grinned minutely, then his expression was composed once more.

"Why do you do that?" I whispered, reaching out to brush back a stray lock of dark brown hair from his face.

"Pardon me?"

"Why do you do that? Every time you show some emotion, or reveal something about yourself, you go all rigid, and turn away. You become cold. I feel like I can never comprehend how much pain you've gone through- which is probably true; I'll never understand completely. But-" I halted my flow of worries momentarily. "But I want to help you, Erik, I want to lift your pain _somehow_..." I furrowed my brow. "I'm just not certain how to do it."

During my little speech Erik had not moved at all. I can sense his cunning mind working very rapidly to come up with an honest and satisfying answer.

"My whole life," he began, gazing at the organ pedals, "I was rejected and unwanted. In order to even survive, I had to shut out what everyone thought of me, and what they said to me. I learned very quickly that the less emotion that I showed, the less taunting and injury I received. My own mother-" He hands shook with rage "- never loved me. she insisted I wear a mask, and when I ran away from home, I doubt she cared! She was probably glad to be rid of me, her monster of a son! So you see, I've never known love or compassion, never known kindness, or even the pleasure of touch. Is it so hard to comprehend, then, why I am so hesitant to allow any true feeling to be shown?" He stood- his towering height overwhelmed me- and stalked away into the shadows, leaving me stunned and filled with pity, behind him.

I waited and waited, but Erik never returned. I was uncertain of what to do- I wasn't quite sure which direction he'd gone- so I quickly found an inkwell, ink, parchment and a quill and penned him a quick note before leaving to find Madame Giry. She would be know where he was eventually, and would solve the probelms that needed to be sorted out.

**Poor, unhappy Erik!**

**Hope you liked it!**


	4. Embedded in the Shadow

**Thanks to those who reviewed and read my story!!! Reviews keep me motivated to write more often:)**

**Hope you like it!!!**

Every day before and after lessons, I dutifully traveled down to the opera catacombs to bring supplies and company to Erik. The genius that he was, he had begun composing an opera, and had transformed the eerie grotto into a livable and quite magical place.

One day, about three weeks since we had first met, I went to his home and Erik was no where to be found. "Erik?" I called, pushing away a piece of old scenery to journey down a dark tunnel he had found with me a few days before. "Erik?"

There was only silence. 'Erik?" I tried again, continuing on the damp path. Fear was starting to invade my senses, and I shivered. "Erik?" I began shaking uncontrollably; yet I had to keep walking. There was a loud creak that echoed off the stony walls and I whirled about, but nothing was there. "Erik!?!" I cried, my voice shooting through two octaves.

Suddenly I was grabbed from behind, a gloved hand muffling my scream of terror.

"Shush!" He hushed me, spinning me to face him. 'It's me, ma petite moineau, Erik!"

After my pulse had stopped racing and I could breathe once more, Erik led me back to the grotto. I was still terrified so I held onto his strong arm for dear life, my eyes shut tight.

"Why did you try to find me, Christine?" he questioned softly, stroking my hair with a comforting, yet hesitant hand. "when you are obviously so frightened of the darkness?

"B-because," I opened my eyes. "I was worried about you. I-I don't like it when you're by yourself, with no one beside you. I c-can't bear it when you seem so lonely."

Erik was quiet. We walked on for a few more paces. Then he spun me once more so that my back was to the wall, his tall, lean form in front of mine. "Christine..." his voice was thick with emotion and, whether he was going for it or not, undeniably seductive. "I know I just met you less than a month ago. I am only seventeen, and you are younger than me, even. But I...I cannot allow you to be allured by some rich, good-looking noble's son who will never appreciate you, how amazing and unique you are, and your musical prowess. I can_not_-" he broke off, shaking, "I will not stand by idly, lurking in the shadows as I am doomed to do, while you are taken from me." His eyes were desperate. "I love you, Christine Daae. I need you with me, to love, to cherish, to create the music only we can create. I can't promise a simple, easy life, but I can promise a life with everlasting care and devotion from me."

I was speechless. He was right, it _was_ soon, but was it really? What if this was something like Shakepeare's _Romeo and Juliet_? What if this was something real, something sweeping and true, something beyond either of our control?

As I pondered this, I discovered something as well. I did care for Erik, deeply and unshakably. But did I love him? As I thought back to what had occurred this night, I realized. Yes, yes I did, much more than anyone or anything I had ever known.

"Erik," I gazed up at him, touching my small hand to his bare cheek. "I love you too."

If one could bottle all the happiness in the world, and Erik had drunk from it, his face would not have been as jubliant, as joyous as it was now. We held each other close, too happy to speak. Then, slowly, Erik leaned down to tenderly kiss me. Passion burned in our lips, and we kissed urgently and deeply. My arms twined themselves around his neck. Caught up in the heat of that moment of bliss, I slipped my hand underneath his mask and tossed it to the floor. Erik froze and drew back, a hand over the right side of his face.

"No!" I cried, taking his wrist and attempting to move it back to my waist. "It's alright, Erik, I prefer you this way."

He looked at me incrediously, his hand still clamped on the side of his head. "Christine, every chance that I can spare you the sight of this, I will take. Hand me my mask, ma cherie." **(A/N: "ma cherie" means something along the lines of "my love" in English. Just fyi.)**

I sighed and did as I was told. "Erik, I love you. You don't have to hide from me."

He fastened it on, ignoring my words.

I carressed his hair, his face. "Let me love you, and love me in return. That's all I ask of you, Erik."

He ran his smouldering emerald eyes over my features. "Alright," he murmured, and I kissed him fiercely.

Our hands moved all over each other's bodies with gentle, loving touches. I slid my hand under his mask again, and he whimpered slightly. "All I ask of you," I reminded him breathlessly, casting his white leather barrier aside.

**Yay! Happy moment!**

**Unfortunately I am going on Thanksgiving vacation so I can't update till next week. Sorry!**

**Don't own it. Wish I did.**

**Review, review, review:)**


	5. The Song of the Nightingale

**Since I love you all so much, and my family got back early from vacation, I decided to give you a happy day after thanksgiving pressie. :)**

**If I owned Phantom of the Opera, you would bet I wouldn't be writing this.**

When Erik's face was completely visible, I looked up at his face and cringed inwardly. I managed to keep up a loving smile although inside I fought a sudden urge to turn away. But with fierce determination, I pushed away those thoughts. _Am I so shallow that I can't look past the surface to know a person?_ Recalling the beauty within his heart that I had witnessed firsthand, I swallowed my fear and touched his face gently, laying kisses everywhere. When I drew back, it was then I began seeing with a different perspective. **(A/N: Christine's emotions are very volatile- she _is_ a teenager- so if you think that she is too easily swayed and changes her views too quickly, this is an explanation.)**

As he met my gaze, I recalled the effect he had on me. His very presence had me shaking with devotion and anticipation of his slightly unpredictable actions. His gleaming emerald gaze had a power over me that I could not fight. He was certainly handsome, no matter how much he denied it. At this I frowned. But _how_ could he consider himself so loathsome and hideous? Yes, he was disfigured, but not so to be shunned and to have never known love. I seethed when I thought of the hurt on Erik's face as he spoke of the way his mother had treated him. How could she not love such an intelligent, caring son?

Erik's expression was terse, anxious. "What's wrong, Christine?" he asked, almost fearfully, his hand involuntarily reaching up to his face.

I gripped his hand in mine and smiled at him reassuringly. "Everything is fine, Erik. I was just wondering..."

"Yes?"

"How could you think for a moment that you are a monster?"

He was startled, but then he grinned down at me. "Maybe it's the fact that I want to eat you up."

Laughing, I began running towards the grotto. "You'll have to catch me first!"

I sprinted as fast as my heavy skirts would allow. I heard no footsteps behind me. "Erik?"

A long, well-muscled body crashed into mine, but caught me as I fell. "Erik! You-" But I couldn't even pretend to be angry after I saw the grin upon his lips.

I laughed as he steadied me and sighed teasingly. "Frightening the ladies, monsieur! This is not the way a gentleman behaves!"

He smiled. "Yes, but you hardly count as a lady."

I pretended to be appalled. "Monsieur! I-"

"What I meant, dear Christine, is that angels cannot masquerade as young ladies for long without being discovered."

I blushed, and kissed him once more, as I didn't know what to say.

When we arrived, hand in hand, back at his home, Erik led me to the organ.

"Come and sing for me," he urged, handing me the music of his newly begun opera.

"Oh, Erik, you've done so much! There have to be at least five songs in here!" I exclaimed, glancing through the pages excitedly.

He shrugged. "Six, actually. But come," he patted the bench beside him. "I wish to hear how it's coming."

I obeyed, and he played through the prelude with ease. Again, I was speechless.

Then it was time for the leading soprano's entrance in the prologue, and I took a deep breath and plunged right in.

_"One walks on the solid ground;_

_one soars past the mountain peak._

_One of two lovers can only sing_

_and to her true love never speak._

_She is cursed with an unbroken spell,_

_cast so that she a songbird be._

_Till e'en falls, then as a lady she meets_

_with her loyal and waiting true cheri._

_Newfound affection bright as day_

_is confined to darkest night_

_And as dawn approaches she must leave_

_and into morning take her flight!_

_As despair's arrow pierces the songbird's throat_

_her song is lilting as the piper's flute._

_And with her final breath she tells_

_of her dark fate, so grim and resolute!_

_Love conquers all or so the storues say_

_it fights and banishes evil away._

_But love has failed them, so it seems,_

_they converse only in his sleeping dreams... "_

Erik's passionate, sweeping opera told of two young lovers torn apart by the girl's promise as a child to please her master, a count who practices dark magic. When she refuses him, he places upon her a curse in which she is only a songbird in a cage, until nightfall. This is when she meets with her true love, a simple farmboy, as a human. But her master discovers their secret and orders her to be killed. When the boy hears of this, he mourns and sings their song, the one she sang for him as a bird. Years pass, and he grows old. Finally, when he is withered and aged, his love visits him in a dream and leads him into heaven, where they stay for eternity together.

The opera was beautiful, and although Erik hadn't written some of the middle pieces, it was still excruciatingly lovely and sweet. Tears came to my eyes as he and I sang the lovers' duet. He never once looked at the music, only into my eyes, and I felt as though those words were truly meant for me.

When the opera concluded, all too soon, in my opinion, Erik looked at me anxiously. "What do you think, Christine?"

"What do I think?!? It was incredible! Beyond words, Erik. I loved it."

He smiled crookedly at me. "I had hoped so. It was written for you."

Even though I had suspected it, hearing it aloud was still surprising. "Oh, Erik!"

He beamed as I threw myself into his arms.

**I am not a professional opera composer or synopsis writer, only a high school freshman working on a fanfic story. So the summary and prologue lyrics are not the best. Shakepeare's Act I prologue to _Romeo and Juliet_ was the inspiration for my prologue, although I can never ever in a million years hope to match the Bard's awesomeness.**

**Hope you enjoyed it though.**


	6. Upon Return

**Okay I am moving very quickly in this chapter, skipping a few months. Also, the opera mentioned, _Don Carlos_, actually did premiere in Paris in 1867. So I am stealing from history what isn't mine, and borrowing the wonderful Phantom of the Opera characters as well. **

**Well, you know the drill: read and review!!!**

I spent many happy months there at the opera. During the day, I went to rehearsals and lessons and spent time with my loyal best friend Meg Giry. Then, at night, I met with Erik, my greatest tutor of all, learning how to improve my voice, and teaching him to love.

All of the sudden July was upon us, and I recalled a deep longing to return to the house by the sea in which I had spent much of my childhood. I bid Erik good-bye, almost deciding to cancel my plans when I saw the look on his face. But I knew that the sooner I departed the sooner I could return. So with tears in my eyes, I packed my bags and left the Opera Populaire.

The three weeks passed quickly and quietly. The house was still there, feeling empty without the children running around, and without my father. I arrived back at the opera late one August evening, and, completely exhausted, I went straight to bed without so much as a word to anyone.

When I woke up the next morning, Meg was in my room. "Meg!" I cried, throwing my arms around my best friend. "Oh, I missed you so! What happened while I was gone? You must tell me everything!"

Meg smiled, and I noticed the weariness in her voice as she spoke. "Auditions are about to begin for _Don Carlos_, and Carlotta has been bothering the managers about her role." She rolled her eyes, then was suddenly serious. "Speaking of the managers, they have started receiving strange letters from someone who calls himself the 'opera ghost' asking for 20,000 francs and instructing them about the opera! They are more than disgruntled about this, especially as the letters include threats about 'disasters' occurring."

I raised my eyebrows. "And they don't know who it is?"

Meg shook her blond head. "They don't have a clue. Actually, they're probably debating about whether or not to meet this opera ghost's demands right now."

I snorted. "I bet Carlotta is not too happy that their attention isn't completely on her."

Meg laughed, and hugged me again. "It is so good to have you back, Christine! I'll leave you to get dressed. We start auditions very soon."

After she closed the door, all thoughts of this "Opera Ghost" were absent from my mind. All I could think about were the _Don Carlos_ auditions, and how I desperately wished that I would be cast as the main female lead Elisabeth. But as I pondered this more thoroughly, my heart sank. A lowly chorus girl like myself would almost certainly be pushed aside. Especially as Signora Carlotta, the prima donna, would certainly be given the part without even an audition.

I shook my head at my insolence. I had been away from the opera for almost a month, and not present for the directors to even consider me. Sighing, I got up and dressed slowly, busying my hands for as long as possible.

It was then that I noticed a single, blood-red rose lying upon my dresser. There was a note beside it that read:

"_My dear Christine,_

_Welcome back. I hope your trip was pleasant._

_Much has happened here that we must discuss. I also have a surprise for you. In a matter of hours, it will reveal itself to you. We shall meet again shortly._

_Yours,_

_Erik._"

Touched by his thoughtfulness, I tucked the rose and the note into the dresser drawer. And as much as I was pleased, I was confused. His wording befuddled me- "it will reveal itself to you"? What did that mean? I sighed and went out into the hallway, closing my door behind me. I couldn't worry myself with Erik's confusing note. I had pressing matters to deal with at the present.

Once I came onto the stage, Madame Giry met me with open arms. "Welcome back, mademoiselle," she whispered in my ear. "I have much to tell you."

As she pulled away I threw her a questioning look, but she merely smiled and walked to stand beside a group of ballet dancers. I diverted my attention from her to the managers, who were asking for our silence.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" M Andre shouted, his face flushing scarlet. At last the assembled throng was quiet. "Thank you. As you know, our upcoming opera, _Don Carlos_, is to premiere in a matter of weeks. Today the auditions for the lead roles of Don Carlos, King Phillip, Rodrigue, the Count of Lerma, Princess Eboli, and Elisabeth shall be held and tomorrow, the auditions for the minor and chorus roles. Now, as-"

But once again, my thoughts drifted, only to be interrupted suddenly by Madame Giry's voice. "Monsieur!" she called, waving a yellowed envelope with a crimson seal, "A letter from the Opera Ghost!"

There was loud murmuring at this. Meg shot me a meaningful glance. "Another one?" M Andre seemed angry. "Bring it here then, Madame."

The crowd parted to let her through, and she handed the note to her steaming manager. He roughly tore the envelope and read quickly through it, his gray eyebrows shooting higher and higher with each sentence.

Once he had finished and tossed it to his partner, he turned to us, "The Opera Ghost bids you all good day, and asks for the 'hideous gown' used in Act III to be removed, as well as his month fee of 20,000 francs to be paid. Also," he raised his voice. "Is a mademoiselle Christine Daae present?"

Several pairs of eyes shot to me. I blushed automatically, speechless. "Answer him, Christine," Meg mumbled in my ear. "It's probably in your favor."

"Miss Christine Daae?"

"I am here, monsieur." I replied, stepping forward.

M Andre surveyed me with critical eyes. "The Opera Ghost also requests that you, Miss Daae, star in as Elisabeth in _Don Carlos_. He says-" Andre snatched the letter back from his partner "- 'I ask that Christine Daae replace your current leading soprano to play Elisabeth in your upcoming production of _Don Carlos_, effective immediately. Miss Daae has immense talent that must not be ignored or pushed aside by an ugly hag whose voice sounds as though she were croaking. If these demands are not met, a disaster beyond your imagination will occur. Your obedient servant, O.G.'"

Now everyone in the theater was staring at me.

M Andre's expression was cold. "Mademoiselle, do you know this Opera Ghost?"

"No!" I cried. "I have no idea who it is. I have just returned from my holiday, monsieur. I don't know who it could be."

My manager glared at me suspiciously. "Yes, well, in order to keep this man from taking advantage of our opera, we are refusing to grant his wishes. He is obviously not sane, and possibly dangerous, so all of you, keep on your guard!" He addressed the entire crowd. Then he turned to his partner. "Will you meet me in our office? Now?"

"Of course," the taller man responded, following Andre closely.

As the throng dispersed, I spotted the dropped letter on the floor. Picking it up, realization hit me like a washing blow. It was the same parchment, the same ink, the same handwriting as the note that sat in my drawer.

_Erik, what have you done?_

**There, a nice long update- so let me know what you think! **

**I know it isn't my best chapter, but the Phantom of the Opera had to introduce himself sometime! **


	7. Explanations

**Thanks to those who reviewed!!! **

Still shaking from my discovery on the stage, I briskly strolled back into my room, slamming the door behind me. _Is he trying to get himself caught? Does he _want_ to be found?_ I rifled through my drawers, looking for that blasted note. I searched through the entire dresser, worried when I did not come across it. _I know I put it here somewhere..._

I started to panic, crawling around on the floor, moving aside random articles of clothing strewn about. As I was looking I bumped into something tall and stiff. "Ouch," I complained, gazing upwards to see the letter in a pale, long-fingered hand.

"Trying to find this?" A familar, musical voice asked.

- - -

"Erik!" I hissed once we'd sat on the bed together, hand in hand. "What is going on? Do you have the slightest idea of what-"

He seemed amused. "Hush, my darling Christine. I know what I'm doing. The opera managers are far too clueless and unintelligent to ever catch me. If this is the only way my desires will be respected, then it must be done."

"But," I interjected, "Erik, why? Must you threaten them? Everyone is terrified, you can't-"

"Yes." he said authoritively, "I can. Don't you see, Christine? This face which condemns me to be an outcast, it invokes fear. Why not cause people to fear me without ever showing my face?" He seemed triumphant. "This is the _only way_ I can have status and respect in my opera house, ma cherie."

I took a deep breath, trying to calm down and put myself in his position. What would I do if I was him? Not this, a small voice in my mind told me, but I kicked that aside. I was not a musical genius like Erik.

He sighed heavily and looked at me with a tired and somewhat relieved expression. "Christine," he murmured, carressing my brown waves. "I've missed you so..." Trembling slightly, he kissed me.

I had almost forgotten what it felt like to kiss Erik, to feel his gentle and loving touch against my skin. It felt different from anything else and lovely in its alieness. I could detect his joy at my return and the bittersweet emotion in that kiss, and I realized that I couldn't bear to leave him so melancholy again.

"Dear Christine," he said softly when we had stopped for a moment. "did you not enjoy my surprise? Everything I've done has been for you. Does that not please you?"

I spoke with understanding and an acute pang of guilt. "Erik, I shouldn't have gone. I shouldn't have left you here. I missed you terribly." At that, he merely met his lips to mine.

Once we'd relunctantly broken apart, Erik stood and grasped my hand. "Come," he beckoned. "I have something to show you."

I smiled up at him, happier than I realized now that he was with me. "Alright." I began leading him to the door, but Erik held me back.

"Not that way, ma petite moineau," he laughed and pulled me the opposite direction towards an ornate gold-adorned mirror that covered most of the wall. Immediately, seemingly of its own accord, the mirror crept sideways to reveal a cold, dark tunnel that sloped down into the theater's depths.

My mouth popped open in shock. "How-"

He simply grinned. "This way, mademoiselle." He led me into the passagway, the mirror closing once again behind us. The air was damp and went straight through my thin cream-colored dress. I shivered involuntarily, clutching myself closer to Erik.

Automatically he shrugged off his wool overcoat and placed it around my trembling shoulders. "It's not far, Christine." And even though I wasn't all that afraid with Erik there, I still clung to his arm like a child, my chocolate eyes wide.

A faint flickering glow greeted us after a winding bend, and then the tunnel opened up into the most impressive and majestic place I had ever set foot in.

**I hope you liked it, R&R once again, and I do not own Phantom of the Opera (But oh I wish I did!!!)**


	8. AUTHORS NOTE PLEASE READ!

Alright, I'm sorry for those you think that this is a chapter, but before you click onto other things just hear me out.

If anybody has any plot ideas, or anything at all they want me to put into the story, let me know!!! seriously, if you can think of ANYTHING, anything at all, type out a review and i'll appreciate it sooo much. i have chapter 8 partly done, but i want to know what you guys want in the story. at first i was writing solely for me but now it's for ya'll too. so tell me what you think!!!

thanks so much- you guys are awesome!- and chapter 8 will be out soon. promise!

kt


	9. Lullaby

**Thanks for the suggestions its okay if u couldnt think of anything... i just want to know what u as the readers would like.**

**But I have some idea of what I'm going to do for further chapters, so thats a start. and I AM SO SORRY to keep ya'll waiting for this long! this week has been INSANE!!!**

**Hope this is worth the wait...**

Thousands of white candles, dripping low on iron stands, cast an enchanting light over the entire space. Elaborate props and richly colored fabrics were everywhere I looked and I noticed defined alcoves and rooms. I simply stared in awe at this unbelievably sight before me. It was his grotto, though it appeared like a completely different place entirely.

Erik cleared his throat. "Do you like it, Christine?" His voice sounded nervous, of all things.

I ran into his arms, wrapping my arms around him. "Erik, it's incredible! _Everything_ you do is incredible!" I kissed him fiercely, deliriously.

He kissed me back with incredulous delight. Many silent, blissful minutes passed. Then we pulled away, gasping for breath. Somehow his mask had come off and the top buttons of his dress shirt were undone. I could only picture how I must look.

"Christine..." Erik whispered my name as he stroked my face, my hair. "I love you so, my darling. I love you more than you could possibly know, my angel, ma cherie."

I buried my head in his chest and sighed contently. "I love you, too."

After a few moments, Erik tilted my chin up to look into his gleaming emerald eyes. "Christine, you look so tired. Do you want to go back?"

"No!" I replied quickly. But then I indeliberately yawned, and Erik smiled knowingly.

"Follow me, you'll get lost if you try to make your way back on your own..."

"Erik, may I stay here with you?" There was a surprised silence at my blurted out words.

He looked at me disbelievingly. "You would _want_ to stay down here?"

I returned his direct gaze. "You made it wonderful here, Erik, and besides, everywhere I go is better with you there."

His eyes softened, though his tone was still incredulous. "There's a spare bed in that room there-" He gestured towards an open doorway a few yards away "-if you wish."

I nodded. "But I'm not ready to retire just yet. Could you perhaps play a song for me? Please?"

He gave me an exasperated look but didn't seem all that opposed to the idea as he led the way to the magnificant organ. I sat on the bench beside him as he turned to the keys.

A complicated, yet undeniably elegant ballad greeted my ready ears. I breathed deeply, content, as the slow melody lulled my sleepy eyes to close. I leaned my head on his shoulder and my thoughts drifted.

The last thing I remember before sleep at last overcame me was the music halting and a pair of strong arms carrying me away.

- - -

I awoke in an impossibly soft and opulent swan-shaped bed, confused and disoriented. It took me a few moments to remember where I was. But then I heard gentle music coming from another room, and I recalled the previous night. I sighed and sat up, stretching, adjusting my thin gown. Slowly I stood and walked out of the ornate room into the vast area by the lakeside.

Erik sat at the organ, his nimble fingers carressing the wooden keys with ease. He was singing softly, almost to himself, trying out the lyrics he had composed to what appeared to be a beautiful lullaby.

_"...The music will guide you_

_on a path only it can take you._

_Face it, embrace it,_

_and it won't think to forsake you._

_I only live to please you_

_Send me away, lest my song ease you_

_from your strife._

_For you, my dear, are the angel in my life._

_I was afraid of knowing love until I saw your face._

_You alone could give me the strength to try._

_So let go, my angel, allow your winged dreams to fly!_

_Then return, so we're together you and I._

_Music desires you,_

_it speaks of sweet seduction._

_Flowing onward_

_without interruption-"_

"_Merde_!" Erik shouted, slamming his hands on the keys in frustration. He held his head in his hands, clutching his tousled hair in both fists. Cautiously I picked my way over to him and wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

"Christine," he murmured, sheepish, "Did I wake you? I'm sorry, I-"

"Erik, that was amazing."

He made a face. "It needs some serious work, it doesn't come even close to..." He broke off suddenly and looked up, anxious.

"What doesn't it come close to?"

He muttered something incoherent under his breath.

"Tell me, Erik. Please?" I pouted and widened my chocolate brown eyes.

He sighed and met my gaze. "Nothing I write is good enough for you, my angel," he whispered, glancing forlornly at the organ.

I kissed the top of his head. "Everything you do is beautiful, Erik. Especially your music. You have a beauty in you that is impossible _not_ to see. It's one of the main reasons I love you so dearly."

Erik appeared stunned for a moment. Then he reached for me and pressed his lips to mine.

**Another song! Sorry if u dont like it, but I love it when Erik composes (sigh) even though hes SO much better than i am obviously...**

**so review, and i will try to have another chappie out quickly- sorry for the delay!!!**


	10. Things Not Meant to be Heard

**MANY MANY apologies!!! i am SWAMPED with afternoon choir practices all this week, tests, studying for finals, AND my regular weekly things to do!!! So sorry!**

**And for those who are tired of my constant lovey-doveyness, don't worry...**

**Well, R&R! And enjoy, of course!**

Far too soon for my liking Erik drew his lips back from me. His whole body was tense, and his head snapped to the doorway like a hunting hound after it had caught the scent. "Stay here," he hissed, dashing out of the organ room and shutting the door behind him. It was then I heard my name being called by a familar voice.

"Christine?" Madame Giry shouted. I knew her tone well enough to recognize that she was livid. "Erik, where is she?!?" I supposed that in my absence Erik had had to confide in somebody. It was right that it was my strict but kind ballet instructor who had helped Erik gain his freedom.

"Antoinette," He appeared annoyed. "Why have you come here? Just because I have shown you where I am residing does not entitle you to-"

"Oh, would you be quiet for once, you insolent fool of a boy! Do you not realize that Christine has been missing for almost two days now?!? Everyone is frantic, my daughter is worried sick, and with your plans to leave in-"

"Madam!" Erik interrupted her loudly. "Could you bear to keep your voice down?!?"

They then spoke in hushed tones for a bit, and I did not try to listen. Erik was _leaving_? I shuddered at the thought, and dread and hurt left me breathless. And I had had no idea of his intentions!

"YOU HAVEN"T _TOLD_ HER!" Madame Giry shrieked, "You've had these plans to travel the world for _weeks_, and you didn't think to write her, or let her know when she arrived! That was four days ago, Erik!" She took gulping breaths to placate herself. After a few moments she was deadly calm, but her eyes were dangerous and authoritative. "Erik if you do not tell her today, then I will make it my duty as her guardian to inform her. And-" she added. "-the girl will be coming back with me in an hour's time. I will be waiting near the entrance to the northeast tunnel." Then the older woman turned on her heel and left us in complete and utter silence.

Erik came into the room a few minutes later, gazing determinedly at the floor. "Christine, I am so sorry I-"

"No," I said coldly. "Don't apologise. I heard it all. You're leaving. That's it."

His face was heartbroken. "It will only be for a while, three years at most, I promise I will write you everyday and-"

"Three _years_?" My anger intensified. "And you expect me to wait for you?"

He was crushed, I could tell that much. But then he slowly, painfully, replied. "Only if you wish to, Christine. I will not command that of you." He swallowed and met my eyes. "But I ask it of you. I swear to you, my angel, that I will return to you a humbled and devoted man, ready to take your side if you wish it. I vow to you, Christine," He fluidly sank onto one knee, taking my hand in his. "I will love you for eternity."

I smiled through my tears. " 'I was afraid of knowing love until I saw your face'..." I whispered, quoting his lullaby.

He grinned jubliantly through the wetness in his eyes. " 'You alone could give me the strength to try' " he replied easily, kissing my hand. And we embraced, our tears flowing freely down and mingling together as one.

**So sad!!! I know you probably hate me, but it had to be done.**

**And I have an announcement... after the next chapter, this story PROBABLY will not be updated again until December 21. I am sorry, but finals and rehearsals for the Messiah, which my choir is performing, are underway and i am exhausted. there is no TIME for me to do everything!**

**in the next chappie Erik departs from Paris and the details are worked out. After his return, the events in the Leroux and Webber versions occur...**

**So sorry! Please review tho!!!**


	11. Passionate Release

**The disclaimer (don't own it!) goes for all chapters. just fyi.**

**This part was a bit hard to write, as well as a little rushed, and I apologise if there any any mistakes. But at the same time, this was a nice excuse to take a break from studying for finals!!! **

**Anyways, you remember my notice from last time- so sorry!**

**But this is a very long update. Hopefully that sort of makes up for it...**

"You really have to leave tomorrow?" I wrapped my arms around my love and pouted. "You couldn't stay just one more day?"

Erik leaned down and kissed me briskly. "I'm sorry, ma petite moineau, it is impossible. I cannot miss the boat." Then he returned to packing with a few weather-beaten bags Madame Giry had scraped up for him to use. I sat on the feather-soft bed beside him. "And where exactly are you going?"

He didn't glance up. "We are docking in Nice, then heading on a larger ship to Italy. From there I'll make my way east. Perhaps to Persia."

I mulled that over and then flopped heavily onto my back. A surge of misery and helplessness overcame me, and I cried, "Don't you love me, Erik?"

"Of course I do," He answered automatically, pausing from his drudgery to gaze into my tear-filled eyes with his green-gold ones. Then his brow furrowed, and he was at my side. "Why are you upset, my angel?" He cradled me to his chest.

"You're _leaving_!" I sobbed into his shirt. "Why, Erik? I love you! Why are you leaving me? Why is my angel of music deserting me?!?"

He held me tighter as I wept, carressing my hair and murmuring words of comfort in my ear. "Ma cherie, I love you too. Never think for a second that I do not. I just... need to do this. I need to travel, to expand my knowledge, to learn how to be something other than a... a monster."

I bolted upright in his arms and swept his mask off his face before he could stop me. Then I gripped his face tightly and made him look at me. "You must never, ever think that about yourself, not ever, you understand? No matter what others tell you, no matter how horrible you think you are, you are _not_ a monster! Promise me you will _never_ think like that again." My voice shook with emotion.

He took one of my hands that was on his cheek and kissed the palm. He closed his eyes and sighed. "I can't do that, Christine."

I sat on his lap and held my face inches from his. "Yes, you can. Swear to me, Erik."

His amazing emerald eyes opened. "I love you, my darling."

I shakily laughed. "I know. Now promise."

He took both my hands in his. "I promise." Then he smiled and pressed his lips to mine.

---

"Where are you taking me, Erik?" I whispered as he guided me in an extremely long and damp tunnel. He had told me to shut my eyes, which I willingly did, although I was itching with curiousity.

"Someplace special," he answered, helping me up a flight of stairs. "Keep your eyes closed tight."

"I know," I muttered, causing him to laugh. Then I felt the sudden nip of an early autumn breeze. "Where are we?"

"We're almost there..." I heard a heavy door shut, and Erik led me a few feet before stopping. "All right," he announced. "Look around."

I opened my eyes and immediately my jaw dropped in wonder. He had taken me to the opera house roof. I stood near the edge and gazed out at the vast scene before me. I could see all of Paris below my feet, and I could feel the city as though it were alive and in my soul. "Unbelievable," I breathed.

Erik, I noticed, was doing the same thing I was. "It's pretty incredible, isn't it?"

"Yes," I mumbled. I faced him. "Erik, this place makes me...I..." I twined my arms around my neck, inhaling. "Erik, I love you."

He kissed the top of my head. "I love you too."

He did not understand what I was attempting to say. "Erik, I want you. With me. Tonight." I kissed him fiercely.

It took him a few moments, but then he broke apart from me and held me at arms' length. "Christine," he began, his face a bit flushed and his eyes unsure. "You can't possibly-"

I took his hand and sqeezed it reassuringly. "Yes, Erik. Please, before you go. I love you so much..."

He surveyed my desperate expression. "Are you... positive, Christine? This is... this is what you want?"

I smiled and met his gaze. "_You_ are what I want."

Erik bit his lip, but then nodded. He appeared to be in shock. "All right, then." He kissed me urgently on the mouth, and we held each other close. Then all of the sudden I was off my feet and we were moving inside, the door slamming neatly shut behind me.

---

I awoke in the midst of what must have been the very small hours of the morning. Erik's arms were still around me, his chest rising and falling with each deep breath he took. I sighed in the memory of just a few hours previous. We had made love in the most gentle and loving way anyone could ever hope for.

His touches were so hesitant, so careful, as though he was trying out notes on the piano keys. Through a strange and welcome mixture of pain and pleasure I felt as though I'd never felt before, I had realized that Erik was my life now. It would hurt immensely when he left. Shuddering at the thought, I drifted back once again into deep sleep.

I opened my eyes again the next morning to an empty bed. I jolted awake immediately and sprinted out to the lakeside. "Erik?" I called. He was nowhere to be found.

Hurt and disoriented, I stumbled back into the bedroom. It was then I spotted a torn sheet of parchment on the bedside table.

"_My sweet Christine_," he had written:

"_I could not wake you, my angel, when you were sleeping so peacefully. You of all people know that I am not partial to interrupting beauty. Last night was beyond description, beyond the limits of what words can express. I truly mean that, Christine._

_My boat leaves at midday- yet I do not know when you will receive this letter. If it is too late to say adieu, then this is my farewell. Saying good-bye is something that I have always loathed doing; I apologise for not doing so personally. I think it is better this way for both of us._

_I love you, my dear angel. Never forget that. If at all possible, wait for me. I swear to you, darling, that I will return, sooner than you think. Until then, I will write every week, and with addresses that you can reply to._

_Do one more thing for me, Christine- continue singing. Keep working with your voice, using the exercises I taught you. Also, Madame Giry has taken care of my absence, so do not be surprised if letters from the Opera Ghost continue. _

_Watch over my heart- you possess it for eternity._

_I love you._

_Erik_."

My falling tears left wet drops on the page. _He didn't stay to say farewell._ I looked down and saw that next to the note there lay a beautiful necklace with a yellow diamond framed by gold. On the back of the golden pendant a message was engraved there: "_For mon ange. My music, my heart, my life._" Once I had begun to cry, I could not stop myself.

I clutched the necklace to my chest and fastened it on. Then suddenly something occurred to me. "What time is it?" I muttered, glancing about me. I ran to the lakeside once more and spotted a large grandfather clock. _Half past eleven. I can make it._

Without another thought, I dressed and raced out of the grotto and towards the bright Parisian daylight.

---

Fashionable women strolling arm-in-arm with gentlemen in waistcoats glared disdainfully at me as I hurtled down the street as fast as my gown would allow. "Pardon me," I said breathlessly as I skirted around a particualry slow-moving couple to run to the docks. _Oh dear God, please don't let me be too late..._

Within minutes I had arrived at the docks, wheezing heavily, searching for the correct pier. _Erik, wait for me._

Then I saw it. They were still boarding, the luggage was still being loaded. I felt like screaming and crying and cheering all at once as I sprinted up the gang plank.

" 'Suse me, mademoiselle," One of the crewmen grabbed my arm. "D'you have a ticket?"

"I'll just be a moment, monsieur!" I yanked out of his grasp and kept going. "I just have to tell someone good-bye!" I said over my shoulder.

'Erik!" I called, looking about me. Surely he had not already gone below? "Erik?"

"Christine?" A confused, wonderfully familar voice spoke my name.

"Erik!" I exclaimed triumphantly, spinning to leap into his arms. "How could you not say good-bye to me?" I questioned as I kissed every part of him I could reach, including his stark-white mask. "Why did you do that, Erik?"

"I thought it'd be easier," he mumbled, still stunned, kissing me back. "I thought that then..."

I pressed my mouth to his, silencing him.

When our lips were free, he met my gaze willingly. "I'm so sorry, Christine. I don't know what I was thinking."

"Easy," I replied, smiling slightly. "You were thinking too much."

He grinned back. "God, I love you," he groaned, kissing me once more.

A loud, clanging bell interrupted us.

We looked at each other sadly. "It is time," he murmured, pulling back.

"Erik, can't you take me with you?" I pleaded. I clung to him desperately like a small child.

He shook his head. "I'm so sorry, Christine, it's not possible." He kissed me once more, then removed my hands. "You have to go back to the opera house."

My eyes welled once more. "I want to be with you."

He smiled forlornly. "As do I. But it's too late now. We'll be together soon, Christine." He bent and kissed my cheek. "I love you."

I nodded. "I love you too." Slowly I began to pick my way back to the pier. Then I hesitated for a moment, and wheeled to give Erik a passionate last kiss.

"Good-bye," I whispered, tears streaming, as I finally stepped off the boat. I turned back to miserably wave to Erik.

"I love you!" I shouted as the vessel chugged away down the river. I don't know if he heard me.

**Awww.**

**R&R s'il vous plait!**


	12. Letters

**The poll is CLOSED and the results are in!!!!**

**This is a short filler chappie that I wrote to set the stage for what's to come... Enjoy!**

Every single day during the first few months I wrote Erik a letter. I informed him about the success of the operas, the dancers' antics, and how his messages were being received. By the time one year had passed, I had only received four letters.

"Christine, he's probably just busy. Nothing more," Madame Giry would say as soothingly as she could. "Now come and finish your supper."

For ages, no more letters arrived.

I will always remember the day that the last letter came. It was a Thursday in the summer, well over a year and a half since my love's departure.

"_my Darling,_

_i apologise for such a late response- it has been quite busy here. Only your Notes Telling me Rightly what Events are taking Place in my much Loved home keep my happy. Yours is a True and Outstanding loyalty, and i am Touched immensely by this. my Heart Is with yours, Sweetheart. Nothing can ever change that. Open This everytime you feel Sad And you will hopefully Feel better knowing that i am yours for Eternity. Be Absolutely Cordial and Kind to our new patrons. they Show promise as well as Outstanding and Open funds. Nothing is As important as So to delight everyone. I hope you Can Abide by this Needed advice. I LOVE YOU, my angel. I MISS YOU TERRIBLY._

_truly yours,_

_ERIK_.

_P.S. THE FIRST LETTERS HOLD TRUTH._"

I read it over and over again, clutching the parchment to my chest. I scanned all the way down to the last few sentences, and to the p.s. _The first letters hold the truth_?... I scrambled to find the notes he had written me before. There were only vague descriptions of his travels, brief instructions about the operas, and many words of love and devotion. Perhaps he was reminding me of his detication to our relationship?... But something told me that that wasn't correct.

Then I noticed the strange way Erik had written the letter. Some were capitalized that shouldn't be. I took those letters out and penned them on a spare sheet of parchment, praying that this was the meaning of Erik's cryptic message.

DONTREPLYTOTHISNOT SAFEBACKASSOONASICANILOVEYOUIMISSYOUTERRIBLY

And then it was clear. _Don't reply to this. Not safe. Back as soon as I can. I love you. I miss you terribly. Erik._

I slumped in my seat._ Erik's in trouble_, I thought. Then I leaned over and put my head in my hands. _Oh dear God, pleae let him be all right_.

**The plot thickens... R&R please!!!!!**


	13. Wishing You Were Somehow Here Again

**I apologise for another filler chappie. But this one especially was much needed. I hope it's not too monotonous!**

**R&R please!!!**

Months passed. I walked through those days as a ghost, hearing but listening, seeing but never looking. Erik had consumed my mind completely. I had made myself sick with worry over the man I had pledged my devotion to and cried myself to sleep countless times. I knew in my heart that he had not meant to worry me, but I still felt a pang of sudden nausea and anger rise in me whenever I thought about that last letter. Which was often.

In this time Meg and I had grown apart. It was something that had only happened once- when my father had died. Meg realized it too.

"What is wrong with you, Christine?" she questioned one day after rehearsal, her normally light blue eyes dark with worry as they surveyed my deathly pale face. "It- it's like your father ...died again. What has happened?"

I swallowed and avoided her gaze. 'Really, Meg, I-"

"No," she intejected, placing a stern hand on my forearm. "Tell me. Are we not best friends?"

"Yes," I sighed. "And I should apologise for not telling you sooner than this." Then I took a shuddering breath and began my story. Purposefully -and though I felt guilty about it- leaving out details like the Opera Ghost facade and the details of Erik's face and living arrangements. Even then, her eyes were wide with shock.

"That's where you were all those evenings," she muttered. Then she was silent, and even in my pitable state I detected her mind adding up all the events of those few wonderous months.

"So, now you know." I concluded in the lifeless voice I acknowledged now belonged to me. "I have lost something that is equally if not more precious than father was to me."

Meg seemed sad for me. "Oh, Christine," she murmured, throwing her arms about me. "I'm so sorry."

Meg was the only thing that kept my sanity and my heart intact. And, although I did not notice it, three more years passed.

I had waited all during that third year for his return. This was when he told me that he was going to be back at the opera house. And with each week that disappeared, my heart grew colder and colder. And as the first autumn leaves turned color, I changed as well. In my mind, Erik was dead.

In my heart, however, I still desperately hoped otherwise.

Before rehearsals for Hannibal began, rumors of the opera ghost were still spread as vigorously as ever. There were only letters and silly little pranks to show for it. Madame Giry and I, the only ones who knew truth, remained silent. But the chorus girls did have some cause for gossip as of late. The tricks had grown in number and more sinister in nature as well as rehearsals progressed. Some of them actually posed a danger to those preyed upon. But to me it was trivial to the worries I held foremost. Every evening I turned to the chapel and prayed for my Angel of Music. And when I sang, I could have sworn he heard me. Singing allowed me to take a holiday from the despair and emptiness that engulfed me otherwise.

Opening night was but a week away. I was in the chorus and the ballet, but there was little passion in my moments, as the music was dead to me. I did as I was told and nothing more. Singing, on the other hand, was a different matter entirely. It was something Erik and I shared, and which had pleased him, and as much as it hurt it healed me as well.

It was the day Raoul de Chagny arrived at the opera house that I finally stirred from my stupor.

**oooo. ominous, no?**

**review, review, review :)**


	14. Nostalgia

** From this point on I will be following ALW rather closely, and adding Leroux and Kay also. Although, of course, Christine and other characters' thoughts and the dialogue will be altered considerably.**

**And in chapter 11 ( a spark also burns) I fixed a part right after Erik's note is read. It is addressed in this chappie, so i suggest reading it. just fyi :)**

**Enjoy! R&R!!!!**

Dress rehearsals were always chaotic, especially with Carlotta factored in. Even as the finale raged on about her, she still insisted for her precious and revolting pet poodle, scaring the poor girl out of her wits when the dog was not brought quickly enough. The maestro cringed but bravely continued waving his baton as the music crescendoed into the final chords.

Suddenly there was an unpleasant shriek. I craned my neck to see what had happened and Madame Giry tossed me a sharp and hopeless glance as I was not on my mark. It seemed that Carlotta had managed to rip her extravagant, almost completed costume gown. I tried very hard not to smirk.

It was then, thank God, that the run-through ended.

The managers walked onstage. "Very... excellent work, ladies and gentlemen. Perhaps one more time through it will be perfect."

Carlotta sauntered up to them, seething. "Are you joking, monsieurs? Nothing is acceptable at all! And my dress is useless because _someone didn't finish it_!" She shot a pointed and malevolent glare behind her. "I cannot stand it! I am leaving!" She turned on her heel and stomped away, calling for her assistants and demanding her dog once more.

The managers looked at each other and then immediately rushed to her side, praising her excessively and promising countless pleasures if she was to remain. Finally they managed to calm her down and she returned to center stage, still rather disgruntled. I faked a cough to hide my laughter.

'Now," Andre contined as though nothing had happenened. "I can promise you all that everything will be completed and perfected by this evening, am I correct?"

Carlotta humphed and turned to the ladies surrounding her, hissing commands at them. I felt a twang of pity for the unfortunate women.

"And there is an announcement." Andre exclaimed, a wide grin upon his lips. "There is a new patron who is on his way today to see our progress. Make sure to perform your-" A stagehand raced up to him and whispered something frantically in his ear.

"Merci," Andre muttered, then announced the news. "It seems that Monsieur de Changy is here at this very moment."

I froze. De Changy... I remembered that name. But it couldn't be...

And, right from my memories, my old friend Raoul de Changy strolled across the stage to shake hands with my employers.

---

"It's Raoul," I murmured to Meg, stunned. She seemed a bit confused.

Memories flooded though my mind, unrelenting and poignant. "From the house by the sea." I smiled at something that Raoul had said to me the last time I saw him- more than ten years ago. "I- I guess you could say we were childhood sweethearts."

Meg grinned knowingly at me. I could tell that she wished desperately for me to be happy again. "Oh, Christine, he's so handsome."

Raoul spoke to the cast, his familiar light brown gaze warming my heart as I reminisced. It was good to see him again after all this time. My lips parted as I surveyed my lifelong friend. He had changed so much, and yet he was still the same. Obviously he was taller, and his shoulders were broader. But the noble, straight nose was still there, along with those warm and comforting eyes. I truly had missed him.

"I will be here later tonight to share in your great triumph." Then he was moving towards me. I held my breath as he drew nearer and found myself desperately hoping that he would remember me.

But I was disappointed. Raoul didn't even spare me a passing glance. "He probably wouldn't recognize me," I murmured.

Meg stroked my hair reassuringly. "He didn't see you."

Suddenly there was a loud crash and an earsplitting scream. I snapped my head around to see what had caused it.

The heavy backdrop had fallen- the ropes holding it neatly severed- right on top of Carlotta, causing her to fall as well. I noticed that Raoul was being profusely dusted off by some of the cast, although he told them calmly that there was no need, he was perfectly all right.

Then a strange but familiar twin amber glow from above caught my attention. I gazed up at a tall, dark form standing beside the scene of the accident. I gasped and my heart leapt up in my chest. "It's him."

The shape then disappeared, and Meg tugged on my costume. "Who, Christine?" She asked, looking about blindly.

I smiled and fingered the sparkling necklace at my throat. "The Phantom of the Opera."

**Hope you liked it! Review please!!!!**


	15. Sweet Anticipation

**This chappie was not all that much fun to write honestly. It's actually like Christine's take in ALW. But I tried to add a little humor... and the next chappie is tres interessante, I promise!**

**R&R and ENJOY!**

"Until you stop these things from happening, _this_ thing does not happen!" With a final glare Carlotta whirled on her heel and left the stage, her few admirers following suit. It appeared like it was for good this time. The rest of us glanced at each other nervously; there was no understudy for La Carlotta.

The managers spoke in hushed tones to each other. Defeat was prominent on their naive faces. "We shall have to refund a full house!"

Madame Giry, seeming to have had enough of this, stepped forward. I noticed an envelope with a red seal in her hand. "Christine Daae could sing it, monsieurs. She has a great teacher."

I stiffened. Yes, I had been using Erik's vocal exercises, but I wasn't ready for the lead! He was only present in my heart and mind these past few years.

Then the managers asked the fateful question."Who?"

I knew for sure that I wouldn't tell them the truth. I couldn't tell them about Erik. Desperately I glanced at Madame Giry, who shook her head slightly. I bit my lip. "I don't know his name, monsieurs." They simply stared at me, and I couldn't blame them. They probably thought I was quite possibly a lunatic.

But then my managers beckoned for me to sing for them, and I hesitantly strode forward. Anxiety stirred deep in my stomach. _Angel of Music, please help me_...

---

The harsh spotlight caused me to blink furiously. Thousands of people were in the crowd and I could not see them at all because of the light, which was somewhat of a blessing. I looked at the maestro, who promptly nodded. Gentle music began to surge about me like a calm sea. I took a deep breath, savoring it, and parted my lips to sing:

"_Think of me, think of me fondly  
when we've said goodbye.  
Remember me ev'ry so often,  
promise me you'll try.  
On that day, that not so distant day,  
when you are far away and free,  
if you ever find a moment,  
spare a thought for me.  
And though it's clear,  
though it was always clear  
that this was never meant to be,  
if you happen to remember,  
stop and think of me.  
Think of August when the trees were green;  
don't think about the way things might have been.  
Think of me, think of me waking  
silent and resigned.  
Imagine me, trying too hard to  
put you from my mind.  
Think of me please say you'll think of me  
whatever else you choose to do.  
There will never be a day when  
I won't think of you!_"

I used the interlude to smile and gaze rapturously out at the audience. Never in my life had I felt so liberated.

"_Flow-ers fade, the fruits of summer fade,  
they have their season so do we...  
but please promise me that sometimes  
you will think of me!_"

Thunderous applause greeted me as the curtain fell. I immediately turned after the opera ended and left for the chapel. Perhaps Erik would be there waiting for me.

People kept stopping me as I fled. Usually I would have enjoyed the compliments, but at the moment I desired greatly to be alone. I was certain I was going to see him tonight.

Finally I arrived at the chapel, my heart pounding in anticipation. I opened the door quietly and made my way in carefully as to not rip my sparkling, white gown. Folding my skirts about me I knelt to light a candle for my father, and to pray.

After many silent minutes the heavy wooden door flew open once more, and my best friend walked through. "Where in the world have you been hiding?" She came and sat by my side with a genuine smile on her angelic face. "Really you were perfect."

I ducked my head embaressed. "Thank you, Meg."

She smiled again, then stroked my heavily done-up hair and met my gaze. "I only wish I knew your secret. Who is your great tutor?"

I kept my smile bright, but inside I cringed and racked my brain for a satisfying answer. One that wasn't a total lie.

Then it came to me. _The Angel of Music_...

I told her the tale my father had told me about the angel that he would send for me. Afterwards Meg looked at me incrediously. "Christine, you really think your father's ghost has been coaching you?"

_No_. "Who else, Meg?"

She nodded slowly, and then stood. "If that's what you say, then I believe you, Christine," she said seriously, which made a tingle of guilt wash through me.

Meg held out her fragile-looking hand. "Come. Let's get you out of that dress."

I took it and together we walked out of the chapel and into my new dressing room.

---

Madame Giry was already waiting when Meg and I arrived.

"You did very well, my dear," she told me with a clear smile on her face. Then she turned to her daughter. "Come, Meg. Let's leave the new prima donna alone now."

Meg grinned and hugged me. "Good-bye, Christine. You really were incredible."

I hugged her back. "Thanks, Meg. Good night!"

As my good friend was leaving, Madame Giry spoke in my ear. "Erik is back, Christine. And he is pleased with you."

I beamed. "He heard me?"

She nodded. "He's coming for you tonight." Then she leaned away from me and smiled one last time before departing.

I closed the door and breathed out heavily. _He is near..._ I sat down at the beautiful mahogany vanity to wait. It was next to an enormous mirror- the largest one I'd ever seen!- that took up well over half the wall.

Then I noticed a single red rose that lay upon my dresser. I went to pick it up, and felt a thrill of happiness to feel the black ribbon tied on the stem. _Erik_. Daydreaming, I strolled back to the vanity and began to lazily brush my hair, lost in thought.

Suddenly the door flew open. Raoul stood in the doorway, a gentle smile on his lips. "Little Lotte let her mind wander..." he began, and I grinned in recognition. "Little Lotte thought, 'Am I fonder of dolls or of shoes or of ribbons or frocks?' "

I smiled as I drowned in the swift undertow of memory. "Those picnics in the attic..."

He came to kneel at my side. His voice was like the smoothest silk. " 'Or of chocolates?' "

I broke the spell we were under by throwing my arms around my dear friend's neck. He laughed and then held me at arm's length. "Oh it is so good to see you! You sang like an angel tonight."

Lowering my gaze, I cringed slightly; the irony of those words hit me without mercy. But I then chided myself internally for even reacting to that.

Raoul met my gaze. "You must come with me to dinner tonight! I insist."

I hesitated. Seeing Erik was my first priority. "Raoul...I don't think I can..."

He stood and began walking towards the door. "Of course you can! I'll call my carriage. Two minutes, Little Lotte." The door slammed shut.

I sighed and went to change. Raoul was still the same person he was so long ago.

When I came out in my dressing gown and stockings an unnatural darkness had settled about the room. The candles were blown out, seemingly of their own accord. I stood there, shaking, in the blackness, uncertain of what was to come.

**Let me know what you think, s'il vous plait!!!**


	16. The Angel's Tale

**A very, very long, detailed chapter that includes a ton of Kay. So be prepared, and keep in mind that I _tried_ to stick to the original plots a bit.**

**R&R!!!**

I stood in complete darkness, absolutely terrified. My breathing grew more and more frantic until-

"INSOLENT BOY, THIS SLAVE OF FASHION, BASKING IN YOUR GLORY!" A thunderous and magnificant voice filled the room. "IGNORANT FOOL, THIS BRAVE YOUNG SUITOR, SHARING IN MY TRIUMPH!"

A huge gust of relief swept over me as I recognized that glorious tenor and I closed my eyes as I replied. "Angel, I hear you, speak. I listen. Stay by my side, guide me."

I heard a great _whoosh!_ as a dark form entered the room from above, and landed like a cat a few feet in front of me. It was all I could do not to scream and bolt to the door. The figure then advanced toward me, and I felt the velvet-like leather of a black glove touch my cheek. Two golden orbs shone inches from me. That was all the incentive I needed.

'"Oh, Erik!" I exclaimed, throwing myself blindly into his arms. He held me as I sobbed, and buried his face in my hair. I pressed myself into his jacket. "Oh, I missed you so!"

"My beautiful Christine. And I as well, ma cherie." He carressed my head gently. "Did you think that your Erik would not come for you? Had you forgotten your Erik?"

"No, never!" I said tearfully, flinging my arms around him again.

His tone was cold. "What bout that..._boy_ that was in your dressing room?"

"He is just a friend from when I was a child, Erik! That's all!" I cried. "It was terrible when you were gone! I- I had thought..." I couldn't bear to even say the words.

His unforgettable emerald- gold eyes softened. "You thought that I was dead."

I only clutched myself all the closer to him, hiccuping sobs racking my body.

Erik sighed and leaned down to murmur in my ear. "My angel, I am here. I am all right. I am so sorry that I was gone. So sorry. But there is no need to cry so, my love, especially over me."

Shaking my head was my response. I sniffled unattractively. "I was lost without my Angel of Music."

Tentatively Erik moved his face to mine. "I am here now. I love you, Christine," he said gently, his sweet breath swirling up and dazing me for a moment. And then he pressed his lips firmly against mine. I eagerly kissed him back, and all was right in the world for a few precious moments.

Soon I felt Erik's lips curve up in a grin and we broke apart. I was smiling widely as well. Then he let go of me and walked towards the giant mirror. It immediately opened to reveal the dark passageway that I had been down so many times before.

"Come to me, my angel." He beckoned to me, and I carefully took his hand. And together we journeyed down into the bowels of the grand opera house.

---

"Erik," I started as the damp tunnels grew steeper and his grasp on my hand tighter. "Will you tell me of your travels? I mean, it sounds wonderful being able to be able to go to so many places! It-"

The drawn expression on his face silenced me. His tone was stiff and weary-sounding. "Perhaps later, ma petite moineau."

I bit my lip. "Alright." We walked in silence for a while.

Then there was a loud squealing noise that came from behind me. I let go of Erik's hand and wrapped my arms around his waist tightly. He tensed and winced.

I immediately released him. "What's wrong, Erik?"

He shook his head. "It is nothing, ma cherie. We're almost there-" I could see the light from around the bend.

"Not nothing." I insisted, moving aside his overcoat. Erik held my wrists.

"No, Christine," he growled.

My eyes widened. "Did something happen to you? Is that why you were late? Is that-"

He silenced me. "Come."

Obidently I followed him into the grotto, which was as wonderous as ever. Messier, though, with pieces of parchment strewn about everywhere.

He slowly eased himself into a large green chair beside the organ. I folded myself at his feet, allowing my long dressing gown to fan out around me.

"Erik," I asked hesitantly. "May I request something?"

His brow furrowed. "What is it you desire, my dear?"

"Would you please remove your mask?" My gaze was steady and resolute.

His eyes widened. "Why would you want that?"

"I haven't seen you in ages, Erik. I want to peruse the face that I have been without for so long."

Erik paused, but then cautiously took off the porcelain mask.

I will not lie and say that his face was not ugly. Certainly most people would consider it horrific in its own right. Even I had to restrain myself from shrinking back or flinching; I had to work my hardest to keep up my expressionless gaze. But his face did not halt my love for him at all. I knew that Erik's beauty was locked inside the mind and heart of a genius.

His revealed face was frigid. "And I take it you want to know what was bothering me before?"

I nodded.

Erik closed his eyes for a minute, then gingerly undid his tie and vest and unbuttoned his black dress shirt. I inhaled sharply.

A thousand scars and burns encompassed my love's lean torso. A long wound just below his ribcage, which was sloppily wrapped in dirty bandages, caught my attention and I fought back ready sobs, shaking like a leaf in a storm.

"Who did this to you?" I finally questioned, blind fury beginning to rise deep in my stomach like a sickness.

He half-smiled ruefully. "The people I hid from here."

I gently carressed Erik's cheek, and watching for any sign of discomfort, I moved into his lap. I lay beside him and led a trail a kisses from his injured stomach all the way up to the disfigured side of his face.

Hesitantly I met his lips. Once I had broken the kiss, I moved my mouth to his ear. "Erik, I love you. Please, will you tell me who did this?"

He sat up. "I cannot upset you, my darling, I-"

"No, Erik. You won't. Please, tell me where you were- the truth. Please." I begged, placing my hands on his chest.

He sighed heavily. I smiled and settled against him, awaiting the story that was to come. He grasped my hand, taking a tremoring breath.

"When I left Paris, when I left you, I took a small boat down the river to Nice. From there I moved to a larger ship to sail to land in Genoa, Italy. I then traveled to Venice, where I studied architecture and art with a mason who agreed to take me in. I helped him design a few goverment buildings. He told me that I was the greatest talent he had ever come across." Erik grinned slightly. "I stayed with his family for about three months. Then I packed my bags and went on to rural Italy. I- I met some poor farmers who agreed to lead me to the border for a bit of money." His expression tightened. "I was wrong to turn away for a moment. The first night they robbed me, took everything except for what I had on me at the time. They ran away too, the cowards. I was forced to continue on with what I had left." He paused. "After a few days I was almost out of money, and starving as well. I came across a band of gypsies, and tried to steal from them. I figured as they were thieves it wouldn't be so wrong. The first few times I got away with it, but then I was caught and locked in cage. Just like the one I was kept in before. The few possessions I owned were taken, and I was left without food for a couple days.

"Then the owner walked in. His name was Javert, and I hated him on sight. The first thing he did when he saw me was rip my mask from my face. 'Ah-ha!' he laughed.- God, I loathed the sound of his voice! It was like the sound of a yapping dog and the squeal of an unoiled machine- 'The Living Corpse!' he announced. Then they locked me away in there and the group moved on to another town, to parade me as part of their show. As the weeks passed I was allowed more freedoms like books and time out of my cage, as I was a money-bringing attraction, and did not fight back most of the time when they would beat me." Erik absentmindedly traced a scar on his forearm. He was lost in his tale; I was no longer there. "I learned some basic healing and illusions from the gypsies that could perform them with ease. But I spent my nights plotting my escape. By the time seven months had passed we had gone through the country of Sloenvia and were in Croatia. One evening Javert let me out of my cell and held me to the ground. I expected a beating, but his breeches were untied." Erik's shoulders shook with unsuppressed rage. There were tears in my eyes as well.

" 'Be very still. It will be over soon.' he whispered as he reached for me. I threw him off immediately, but Javert knocked me down. 'I told you to stay still.' he hissed, kicking me in the stomach. He advanced again and crawled on top of me. I fought back and we struggled. And somehow Javert ended up dead.

"I ran from the gypsies that night, stealing quite a bit of money and my mask back as well. I made my way through Croatia and Romania and managed to steal passage aboard a ship headed for Asia. I made my way deeper into the continent by using the trades I had learned, selling my building designs and amazing the villagers with my 'magic.' One day the Persian daroga found me. He asked me to come with him to the palace of the Shah. I quickly agreed- I thought that surely this was my chance to prove my talent! But that decision was my grave mistake." Erik's voice was so lifeless, a dull monotone that I had never heard from him before. He slowed down his story, choosing his wording carefully.

"I was brought to the Shah in Persia to serve both him and his mother by devising traps and torture chambers with which to hold their enemies. I designed for them a grand temple, among other buildings. In return, I was paid a decent sum, along with the unspoken promise of my protection. And even then while I was in the Shah's favor, I had to be careful with what I put into a letter. I actually sent them to a small village by Paris, where Madame Giry would check weekly as I instructed.You see, as many admirers as I had collected I also had a greater number of people who feared me. I was a monster, someone no one understood. Only the daroga was ever remotely kind to me. I remained in Persia for about eighteen months. And then the disaster arrived. The Shah was convinced that I knew too many of his secrets, and would betray him to his enemies. He ordered me to be tortured, then killed."

I gasped and clamped a hand over my open mouth.

Erik nodded. "I barely escaped, receiving this-" He gestured to the large bandaged gash. "- from one of the royal soldiers as I fled. The daroga faked my death, using a rotted corpse found by the sea. With his help, I boarded a ship back to Europe and was saved." By this point, Erik's voice seemed strained, exhausted. "I was back in France in late May. And now, I am here." He concluded, sitting back and placing a hand over his eyes.

I sat there in stunned silence. I couldn't believe it. Erik had endured the... the unimaginable. And yet, he was here with me right now. It was unbelievable.

There was an endless pause. Then I leaned over and kissed him. "My God, Erik." I murmured. "I'm so glad you're _alive_." I grasped both his hands in mine and pressed my lips to his forehead.

Erik's eyes wearily snapped open, and he met my gaze. He then kissed the fingers that held his. "For once, Christine," he said quietly. "So am I."

**Hopefully it turned out alright! I did make up the countries that Erik went to... and three years is actually not that long to work with.**

**Anyways, hope you enjoyed!!! ta!**


	17. Night

**I'm so sorry guys! Being really busy, being really sick and writer's block is not a great combo. I hope you haven't given up on me yet...**

**And also, thanks to all those who take the time to review my story- your input motivates me more than anything else to update! Thanks, and keep on reviewing:)**

**R&R and enjoy!**

I didn't quite remember falling asleep, but I must have, as I awoke in that ornate swan bed of Erik's. I crept out to the lakeside, marveling as always at the sheer elegance of the decor.

Erik was unsurprisingly at the organ. But then I noticed his chest was gently rising and falling, his head on his bony arms. I had never watched him sleep before, I mused as I ran my gaze over his dreaming frame. I tentatively sat down beside him and stroked his soft dark hair. Suddenly he started and shot up, whirling to snatch my hands. I froze, my breath caught in my throat.

Erik's wild golden eyes soon lost their ferocity as he recognized who had been touching him. "I am so sorry, my darling, I..."

I smiled gently and took his fingers in mine. "It's fine, Erik. You haven't been back here-safe- very long. I understand."

He looked down at his knees, and a period of silence ensued. And then I recalled something he had told me yesterday as he finished his tale.

"Erik?" I said his name in a frigid tone that was not my own. "You just arrived, right?"

He faced me, stroking my cheek desperately as he pleaded. "My darling, I had to take care of some things here, I couldn't just-"

I recoiled from his hand. For a few seconds I lingered there in still disbelief. Then I stood, my voice shaking in betrayed fury.

"You- you- you _beast_! You lied to me- you don't know what it was like to be here without you! I thought you were _dead_!" I broke off, tears threatening to fall from their precarious perch.

Erik fluidly got to his feet, his arms out as if to embrace me. "My angel, allow me to explain-"

"No!" I cried, backing away as quickly as I could. "Get away from me! Let me go back up. I want to go _home_!" I sobbed hysterically. It was as if the steady wall I had built to keep all the agony and the misery in his absence from me had come crumbling down at my feet. Oh, how I loathed him for that! "Let me leave! I refuse to live in darkness!"

His masked face was hurt, as I had intended. "Christine-"

I tripped and fell in my haste to flee and I lay, weeping pitifully, prostrate before him. It was then that Erik began to sing to me, his voice seductive and oh so tender:

"_Nighttime sharpens, heightens each sensation_

_Darkness stirs, and wakes imagination_

_Silently the senses abandon their defenses_..."

My thoughts left me as I gazed in mesmirised awe at the angel before me. A tirade of emotion rendered me motionless, and I effortlessly gave into the siren call of his song.

"_Slowly, gently, night unfurls its splendor_

_Grasp it, sense it, tremulous and tender._

_Turn your face away from the garish light of day_

_Turn your thoughts away from cold, unfeeling light_

_And listen to the music of the night_."

Erik approached cautiously, stretching a hand which I willingly took. He smiled, and my heart soared as he continued. I closed my eyes to absorb its sheer monumental beauty.

I don't know how long I stayed there in his grasp before his music's soft melody caused me to drift towards sleep. I dimly remember being laid in a luxurious bed and reflecting on his gorgeous song.

Then I realized. It was the same song as my lullaby he had written three years ago for me. The words were different, but the same haunting, alluring quality was present. Slightly unnerved by this, I fell into sleep dreaming of shifting shadows and fallen angels.

**Kinda short, but review please!**


	18. FINAL AUTHOR'S NOTE ps I'm healed!

1/12/2010

Hey guys,

Here's the deal. I'm probably just going to end up deleting this story from the site because there is no hope that I am ever going to update. The muse has long since left the building, and my writing has changed a LOT. It's not fair, I apologize, and eventually I'll learn not to post anything I can't finish. I hope you'll forgive me!

Love you all, thanks for the support,

**Ignatius J. Reilly**

P.S. Yeah, I changed my pen-name too :)


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